Bioshock: Xenomorph
by GreaterGoodIreland
Summary: ADAM wasn't the only thing waiting for the citizens of Rapture on the sea floor... The seeds of the city's destruction were not only of its denizens' own making. Alien-Bioshock crossover
1. Hadley's Hope

**Hadley's Hope**

 _Robert Hadley - September 13th, 1958_

The one man that cared about the little guy is dead a day now. It's Fontaine's blood in the streets, and Ryan looks less and less like a businessman than a king. Now, no one really bought the line that we would all be kings down here under the sea, but we at least thought we wouldn't be under anyone's thumb. And Ryan has a big damn thumb. No one came looking for handouts either, but armed gangs, spliced up to their eyeballs? Best not be poor now. In case some idiot throws a lightning bolt at you, like they're spitting at you. You need to be able to spit back, and genetic modification isn't free.

Fontaine gone does mean one thing. Rapture, for better or worse, has an uncontested ruler. That means things should get back to what the city was built for in the first place; business. And thanks to what I found today, the Great Chain of Industry won't be lashing out against this little guy too much anymore.

Never thought I'd strike gold doing what I do either. Every day, it's march around the seabed, climb up and down the city's skin in a big stinking diving suit, stopping Rapture from bleeding air and looking after the excavation rigs. All so I can get juiced in the evenings, maybe go down to Eve's Garden. There's maybe three guys in the whole city who do what I do, and we've all agreed to keep to our corners. Doesn't matter to the bigwigs, they've started rolling out these... things, to do the job instead. My days as a working stiff were numbered. Now they are for a different reason.

So there I was, depressed about about losing my job to a mute giant and about Fontaine when the sandy ground under me collapses. Not surprising either, I was in a crevice in the rock near one of the main rigs. Happens pretty often around there. So down I fall, as I have before, into a cavern. This time though, it's big enough to fit three whales inside if you wanted to. I knew immediate that getting out was going to be a complete bitch, but I soon discover that I'm not alone in there.

I turn around and there's this huge submarine off a little ways down the cave, stuck in the silt!

My flashlight beams are barely able to pick it out of the dark too, it's painted pitch-black. It ain't like no submarine I've ever seen before, but you know that feeling when you know you've won big? It washed over me like a tidal wave. I don't know who built the damn thing, but it wasn't anyone down here. No one could have built this thing that lives in Rapture, or I'd know the jerk.

I figure either it's someone's personal get-the-hell-out card or it's been here forever. Either way, it's gotta be full of expensive stuff, or better yet, a ticket off this fishbowl. I'm going down there near the end of my shift again with some equipment, crack a doorway on top of the thing with a diving bell.

Looks like there's hope at last!


	2. Encounter

**Encounter**

 _Robert Hadley – September 17h 1958_

I wish I never found that damned submarine.

I got down there as planned with the diving bell and cutting tools. No one paid any mind to me at the airlock.. I must have requested those tools a thousand times. I was positively giddy to get into the thing, like I was fifty pounds lighter on my feet. I feel like complete shit now.

I put the bell on top of the hull. It fit snugly, and I got right to work. My crowbar didn't budge the door a fraction of an inch, and didn't scratch it when I finally broke the tool. I took a circular saw to the door, and the blade sheared in half in seconds. I moved the diving bell and tried a blowtorch. The metal didn't even start to glow, even if I kept the heat up on a single spot! Whatever the hell the thing is made of, it's unlike anything I've ever heard of. Feels strange to touch too, like it was electrified slightly. It was smooth and rough at the same time.

After hours of trying, I gave up. I was exhausted and sweating, so I took off my suit and helmet so I could relax a little. When I sat down on the hull, a small panel beside the door appeared. I nearly jumped out of my skin when it did, hissing as it slid open. No idea why it did, maybe it needed a person to come near it. I experimented with it for only a few minutes and the hatch opened with a gasp of cool air. I dropped inside.

Place was like nothing I'd ever seen, but I wasn't really concentrating on that, because there were bodies everywhere. The bodies were fresh and they definitely weren't human... I don't know what the hell they were. They obviously walked on two legs, I could tell that at least, but their faces were horrifying. Not even the most spliced man I ever saw could compare. Flesh flowing around a face like wax can still at least look human. These things had mandibles for Christ's sake, like an octopus for a head with claws instead of tentacles. What was left of the creatures were torn to shreds too, though one or two were sprawled out near the airlock door. They must've died of their wounds slowly, waiting for rescue.

That shook me up for a bit, but I pressed on. All I could see was living it large, or getting the hell back to dry land, once I had figured out how to use all of this. Even if there was no salvage or the submarine didn't work, I could still get famous and rich by discovering it, I kept telling myself.

There were lots of rooms with machinery, but it was all dead. Dim lights turned on when I moved from section to section, and the place was spotless apart from some strange burns along parts of the walls. Not even a speck of dust. The air didn't seem stale either, which was strange because I have smelled what a room with corpses in it smells like before.

Finally, there was a cargo bay of some kind, the size of a concert hall. Stacked on shelves that seemed to float freely from the walls, there were hundreds of eggs. Not chicken eggs, oh no, but eggs twice or three times as large as a football. At the top of each of them was something like a set of lips. That should've been a clue.

As I was looking one of them over, it opened.

What happened next is a blur. Something jumped out of the egg and began strangling me. I tried to pull it off, but it clutched my neck with a tail and forced itself over my face. It felt distinctly like someone trying to smother me with their bare hands. At that point, I began to weaken and knew I was going to die. I collapsed on the floor hard, thinking I had died for nothing.

Except I didn't die. I woke up, neck sore and my throat dry. I'm thanking my lucky stars, standing up when I get a look at the thing that was on me. If a snake grew hands on either side of its head, it still would be less creepy than this thing. Turns out it was the one that died. I figure maybe it took a hit when I collapsed.

I had enough. I ran the hell out of there, got back in my suit, left all the equipment down there and climbed the hell out of that hole.

Then I get back to my apartment, and it turns out I've been gone for more than a day! Something needs to be done, but I'm not the man to do it. No way I'm going back in that thing. I've called Sullivan, Ryan's man, and hopefully he won't think I've been hitting the bottle when I tell him.


	3. Whodunit

**Whodunit**

 _Sullivan - 18th September1958_

Crime scene notes, Sullivan reporting.

Victim is Robert Hadley, one of McDonagh's suit rats. Known booze hound, but the friendly sort. No known enemies. Except maybe Ryan for employing those freaks to replace him, but I doubt the boss did this. Some reports of sympathies for Fontaine... but that hardly matters anymore. Worked as a repair diver and technician. Reported missing two days ago, came home yesterday, dead today.

Apartment shows no signs of forced entry. The door was solidly locked and the only other way in or out is the vent. No sign of a struggle either. Everything is where it should be. No chairs smashed or knocked over, no blood splatters indicating a fight, no scuffs or wetness on the floor. Nothing to indicate any use of plasmids either. Either the murderer was known to Hadley or a ghost came in and killed the man. Just my luck that he was friendly with dozens of people, but not so friendly as to go inviting them into this dump. Only friends of that kind he had were ones he paid for.

The body was discovered after the victim requested a meeting with me. He said he had an urgent matter of security to discuss with me, something to do with a secret submarine lurking about. The man sounded drunk, but I'm not in the habit of dismissing warnings, so I sent a runner as soon as I got the message. The runner received no answer on knocking on the victim's door, and I called him back. No answer again. That set off alarm bells, and I had the door forced open only to find this mess.

Victim is laying on his back in his bed, uncovered and still wearing his clothing. The position leads me to believe that he lay down for a nap before death. There's an empty bottle of gin beside the bed too. Cause of death is massive trauma to the chest, massive like three shotguns going off at the same time massive. Except it looks like the wound erupted from inside his own body. Ribs are poking out like they were pulled apart and cracked. Internal organs are scrambled but all there. No burn marks on them, which fucked my only theory of him eating a bomb when drunk. The wound is too directional as well, pushing directly out of the chest and not in all directions. His blood pooled in the cavity until we showed up.

Aside from there, there are splatters and smears leading from the bed to the vent, and blood in the vent itself. No way an adult could have squeezed in and out of the place in there. That leaves one possibility, but it's batshit crazy. Only thing I've seen that could move around in the vents is a kid. A normal kid couldn't have done anything like this, so it must have been one of those 'Little Sisters'. Even still, that theory is weak. No way Hadley lets in a Little Sister. I called up Dr. Alexander to see if they are even allowed out of sight of their bodyguard freaks, and he said it's impossible. "Alpha series, blah blah blah."

Only other piece of evidence is two vox diaries, but they're fuckin' useless. Rambling about caves, submarines and strange creatures. I've ordered a search by bathysphere for anything like it, but I doubt we'll find anything. Better pray this is all there is to it, or else people are going to start panicking.

So. I've got a stone cold whodunit on my hands. Great.


End file.
